


Honor Thy Father

by HiddenOne



Category: Glee
Genre: Attempted Rape, Forced Prostitution, Homophobic Language, M/M, Sebastian Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-02
Updated: 2013-02-02
Packaged: 2017-11-27 23:34:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/667731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HiddenOne/pseuds/HiddenOne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sebastian weathers many insults about being a slut and a prostitute because of his nights out spent drinking and having sex in bars. No one guesses that some weekends when he is assumed to be out bar hopping, Sebastian is actually being handed out by his father to an experimental (but usually closeted) donor. </p>
<p>His family duty has never been a problem, but that was before he is expected to have sex with Blaine Anderson's father. A man who, as Sebastian finds out, doesn't like to be told no.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Honor Thy Father

**Author's Note:**

> Endless gratitude to my fantastic beta misscorday. I can't even say how infinitely better you make everything! 
> 
> Also, please pay attention to the warnings. There is explicit attempted rape, mention of past dubious consent, forced prostitution, and violent homophobic language.

Sebastian takes a deep calming breath as the car pulls up the driveway. The house might have been impressive to someone who hasn’t seen as many perfectly landscaped Victorian homes as Sebastian has – as it is, he only glances at it.

“There will be a car waiting for you tomorrow morning at eight. If other arrangements are necessary, you must call.” 

Sebastian rolls his eyes. “Thanks for the update. It’s not like I’ve done this before or anything,” he sneers sarcastically.

And just like the all the previous times, his father’s assistant – nothing more than a glorified secretary, in Sebastian’s opinion – doesn’t respond. The guy just continues to flip through papers and pretends his life is important.

The car pulls to a stop in front of the house (some might call it a mansion, but not him) and Sebastian doesn’t even spare the assistant or the chauffeur a glance before stepping out of the car. The vehicle immediately pulls away and Sebastian expertly avoids the dust cloud it leaves behind. He brushes a few stray lint pieces off of the arm of his suit, takes in the house one more time, and then walks to the door.

He rings the doorbell and waits.

This is the part he hates the most – the waiting. He also hates the suit and tie he has to wear to these things, but usually he isn’t wearing them long enough to incite enough hatred to match the waiting part. He has no idea how long he will be made to cool his heels before he is let in, and it isn’t until he is inside that he will have any idea about how the evening will go. As long as he is outside, he has no information, control, or power. Outside, he feels like a dog. Outside, he must wait as long as someone else deems necessary – sometimes for almost an hour.

He hates the waiting.

Fortunately this isn’t one of those times. The door opens and someone standing in the shadows beckons him in. Sebastian gives a mental eye roll at the drama and can’t keep the small smirk off his face as he confidently strides into the house – the exact opposite air that the man who actually _owns_ the house is giving off.  It is the scared, guilty ones that annoy Sebastian the most – the ones that keep to the shadows rather than risk the light of day exposing their misdeeds. He always makes it a point to showcase that the seventeen year old is unafraid when the fifty-something year old is.

“You’re Smythe’s son?”

“Yes.” Nothing more needs to be said. He hates the small talk beforehand, too.

Sebastian doesn’t even spare the inside of the house a glance. None of it matters. Instead, he evaluates the man before him. He is mid-fifties with black hair starting to grey. Sebastian is two inches taller but the man is much stockier. His clothes are simple business casual but expensive. The stern face isn’t handsome but Sebastian has seen much uglier. Blue eyes are clear but harsh. It is the eyes that let Sebastian know that while he has been afraid to step into the light, this man will be in complete control inside the house and more importantly, in the bedroom.

This was the man who has bought a night (and until eight a.m. the next morning) with Sebastian Smythe.

Well, ‘buy a night with Sebastian’ is misleading. More accurately, a night with Sebastian was the thank-you present for shaking hands on a large monetary donation for the Smythe family patriarch’s campaign fund. The money is for his father, not for him. That has been made perfectly clear.

Sebastian weathers many insults about being a slut and a prostitute because of his nights out spent drinking and having sex in bars. No one guesses that some weekends when he is assumed to be out bar hopping, Sebastian is actually being handed out by his father to an experimental (but usually closeted) donor – his father has higher ambitions than simply being the states attorney of Ohio, after all, and he’s found the perfect market in which to utilize a gay son.

Giving himself out for free (or for a drink or two) at Scandals always feels sweeter after his family duty is done.

There used to be a time when Sebastian asked for names. When Sebastian wanted to know who the people he was soliciting were, what their background story was. Eventually he just stopped caring because it really didn’t matter and it was too hard to even remember them all. Countless people would be shocked if they realized just how many rich elitists had repressed homosexual desires – especially the wives and children.

Like this guy has, apparently. Sebastian scoffs at the pictures that are displayed in the hallway, giving the impression of the stereotypical perfect family. No doubt the wife and two sons don’t know that their husband and father is about to have sex with a seventeen year old boy.

_Wait_.

Sebastian does a double take of the family photograph and freezes in horror. The only thing his brain can process is _Blaine Anderson. Blaine Anderson_ is posing with a happy smile – a touch too wide to be real - in the photograph. He feels nauseous.

“Blaine,” escapes his mouth. He reaches out and touches the photograph – touches Blaine – to make sure what he sees is real.

“What?” the man – the man who has a picture of Blaine, who is _in_ the picture with Blaine – growls with irritation at the delay.

Sebastian, wide-eyed, is finally able to turn and look at this man – this man with pictures of Blaine on his wall. He feels like he has been plunged in ice-cold water and woodenly states, “Blaine Anderson is your son.”

The man – Blaine’s father – scowls. “Yes,” he says to the non-question but otherwise doesn’t respond. He doesn’t seem worried or panicked at all, not like Sebastian is doing internally. “Now hurry up,” Mr. Anderson orders, pointing to what Sebastian assumes is the bedroom.

Oh God. No _._ If there is one thing Sebastian cannot do it is have sex with Blaine Anderson’s father.

“No,” Sebastian finally manages, though it isn’t nearly as strong as he would’ve liked. He tries again. “No! I-I can’t.” Better, even with the stutter.

Mr. Anderson’s scowl deepens and Sebastian’s stomach starts to coil tightly in what feels a lot like fear.

“This isn’t a game, kid. Now move.”

Sebastian can’t do this. He absolutely can’t.  “I know your son,” Sebastian forces himself to say. All he can picture is Blaine, Blaine with his large hazel eyes and sweet smile… and the disgust on his face if he ever found that that Sebastianhad sex with hisfather.

Sebastian swallows to keep his stomach from revolting.

“I don’t care,” Mr. Anderson grits out. He strides over and clamps a hand tightly over Sebastian’s wrist. Sebastian can do nothing but stumble along as he is forcefully propelled into the bedroom. He is released from the tight grip but his momentum only carries him farther into the room. The sound of the door closing seems to echo.

“No,” Sebastian says hotly with what is rapidly becoming a mix of anger and fear. “You don’t get it – _I know Blaine_. There’s no way that I can do this _,_ ” he continues, gesturing to the bed. A very large bed.

“Your father will never get that check from me if you don’t,” Mr. Anderson threatens, stalking towards him.

Sebastian backpedals at the man’s menacing approach but has no intentions of giving in to the threat. His father will be furious about losing the money, but not even that image can make him do this. He will take the punishment because there was no way he is going to have sex with Blaine’s father.  

“I don’t care,” Sebastian snarls. “I’m leaving. If you’re so desperate to get off why don’t you try your wife?”

Mr. Anderson faced flushes an angry red. “Wrong answer,” is his sharp reply.

Sebastian knows he is rapidly running out of room to move, the knowledge making it difficult to stamp down his rising panic. His mind can only repeat _no, fuck,_ and _fuck no_ instead of forming an escape plan. He can do nothing but continue to back away.

“Let me go now,” Sebastian tries to order, “Or my father will throw you in prison for life.”

“Any father who sells his son like yoursdoes,” Mr. Anderson sneers, “isn’t going to care what I do with you.”

The cutting truth of that statement is overshadowed by the panic at the truth that Sebastian is now literally backed into a corner. He has nowhere to go when Mr. Anderson grabs him by his suit jacket and slams him against the wall, knocking the air out of him. Dazed, Sebastian desperately tries to simply breathe and before he realizes, he has been shoved onto the bed. He scrambles to get off, but before he can move more than two feet Mr. Anderson lands on him, crushing him into the mattress.

“I’ll tell your son how sick you really are,” Sebastian threatens as he tries to push the weight off. It’s useless. Sebastian’s height means nothing in this fight and Mr. Anderson is much heavier. His squirms for freedom are futile.

“Go right ahead,” Mr. Anderson sneers, his breath fanning hotly over Sebastian’s face. “See if he believes you.”

_No-fuckno-thisisn’thappening-fuckfuckfuck_.

Sebastian has never felt so powerless. He is rich, confident, athletic, and tall – he has never once worried that someone, with the exception of his father, could force him to do anything. Scathing words and threats rarely fail him, and he had learned how to throw a punch before he had told anyone he was gay. This…this was never supposed to happen and it wouldn’t if he could just fucking suck it up and do as his father wants but…this time he just _can’t_.

“Get off of me,” Sebastian growls but it is now mostly false bravado. His arms are pinned to the bed by one of Mr. Anderson’s hands and his legs by the weight. His brain is rapidly coming to terms that he might not be able to avoid the inevitable conclusion of this.

Mr. Anderson’s words only confirm it: “Not until I get what I was promised.”

Sebastian’s white button-up shirt is pulled out of his pants and a hot ( _filthy-disgusting-vile_ ) hand creeps up his stomach and sweeps across his skin. Sebastian bites back a whimper as the hand reaches his nipple and twists it harshly, all pain and no pleasure.

“Besides,” Mr. Anderson snarls in his face, “fag that you are, you’ll enjoythis.”

The hand retreats and Sebastian takes a breath. But then that hand is cupping his crotch and squeezing. Tears spring to his eyes at the mix of pain and humiliation but Sebastian refuses to let them fall. If there is one thing he wants to keep through this it is his pride. He _isn’t_ going to cry and he sure as hell _isn’t_ going to get hard by some violent homophobic asshole.

“You fag. You freak. You like this. You like me touching you. You are nothing but a perverted boy, a freak of nature. You are _disgusting_.”

“Big talk for the man sporting an erection right now,” Sebastian can’t stop himself from sneering in defiance. It isn’t anything but the truth, either. Mr. Anderson’s hardening cock is digging into his thigh as evidence.

“ _Shut up_ ,” Mr. Anderson spits at him. Sebastian regrets his words as Mr. Anderson proceeds to grip his balls tighter. He can’t stop himself from letting out a small scream of pain.

He hates Mr. Anderson. He hates homophobes. He hates his father. He hates himself.

Mr. Anderson thrusts his hips down into Sebastian, rubbing his cock against Sebastian’s thigh. Despite what he told himself earlier, Sebastian feels a few tears trickle down his face. He is going to be raped. He is going to be raped and there isn’t anything he can do about it. He is going to be raped and he willingly walked into it. He is going to be –

_Shit. Stop. Think of something else,_ anything _else…_

Mr. Anderson’s breath smells. Is there lube? How long is this going to last? God, he hopes there is lube. He still has his shoes on. Blaine – God, he can never look at Blaine again. Can this just be over already? _Fuck_.

Mr. Anderson finally releases the pressure on Sebastian’s groin. He takes in a shaky breath that immediately whooshes out of him as Mr. Anderson instead grips his hair and yanks his head to the side. The weight on top of him shifts – Mr. Anderson now is rutting directly against Sebastian’s cock rather than his thigh. His next words are delivered harsh and low right into Sebastian’s ear.   

“You like this, don’t you? I bet you just can’t help yourself. You see cock and just can’t wait to get it. I bet you want to suck me, huh? I bet you want to me to fuck you too. Fuck your mouth, fuck your ass…you just can’t stop yourself, can you? No wonder your father hands you out.”

A few more hot tears cascade down Sebastian’s face. God, could this be done yet? His stomach feels like lead. But one thing is for sure – if this guy dared to stick his dick in Sebastian’s mouth he would bite it off.

Mr. Anderson buries his face in Sebastian’s neck and proceeds to breathe his hot, foul breath over Sebastian’s skin. He grinds down into Sebastian who barely manages to choke back a sob. He isn’t going to get hard from this, _he isn’t he isn’t he isn’t._

Sebastian gaze flicks over Mr. Anderson’s shoulder to the doorway, to the escape that he can see but can’t reach. It takes Sebastian a few slow seconds to realize that he is making eye contact with a set of wide, horrified blue eyes. It takes him even longer to process what that means – someone is here. _Someone is here_.

“Please,” Sebastian whispers at such a low volume he doesn’t know if he has even spoken at all.

Please don’t be another one. Please don’t join in. Please stop this. Please help me.

“ _Please_.”

“What the hell are you doing?!” The stranger shouts, still stuck in the doorway.

Mr. Anderson freezes for a second and Sebastian is hopeful, so hopeful that this nightmare is over, but then Mr. Anderson orders, “Walk away, Cooper. Right now.”

Sebastian’s gaze goes back to Cooper’s face. Those bright blue eyes are staring into him for what seems like eternity.

“No. Get the hell off of him and tell me what the fuck is going on!” Cooper declares.

“Shut up and leave! This doesn’t concern you,” Mr. Anderson says coldly. Sebastian winces as Mr. Anderson digs his nails into Sebastian’s wrists.

“The hell is doesn’t,” Cooper argues as he strides over to the bed and yanks Mr. Anderson off of Sebastian. “You think my father raping some guy doesn’t concern me?”

Sebastian immediately scrambles off the bed and backs against the far wall, on the opposite side of the room as the two Andersons. He doesn’t have a clear shot at the door yet, but when he does…

But shit, he doesn’t have a ride off the estate until tomorrow morning.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Mr. Anderson replies.

“Does Mom know about this?” Cooper pointedly questions.

Sebastian does his best not to cower from the cold, furious look on Mr. Anderson’s face.

“No. And she won’t find out, either,” Mr. Anderson orders.

“Oh? And are you going to threaten me to keep quiet? What, are you going to rape me too if I talk?”

“Shut the fuck up. You understand _nothing_. Just get out!” Mr. Anderson yells as he stalks toward Cooper.

“No. You get the fuck out,” Cooper orders. He shoves Mr. Anderson away harshly when he gets close.

“You’ve just made a huge mistake,” Mr. Anderson snarls.

“Please, disown me, I’d love it but have fun explaining to Mom why,” Cooper sneers.

Mr. Anderson growls and shouts a few more curse words and threats at Cooper before he eventually storms out, slamming the door behind him. Cooper turns and punches his fist into the nearest wall as soon as he’s gone.

Sebastian doesn’t know what’s going on or if this is some kind of ruse. He sure as hell isn’t going to have happy thank-you-for-saving-me sex with this guy.

He stiffens when Cooper finally turns to him.

“Are…are you okay?” Cooper asks cautiously, looking Sebastian up and down.

“What kind of stupid question is that?” Sebastian barks, wiping tear marks from his face. God, he so needs to get out of here and just forget this entire night. He catches Cooper’s wince from his tone.

“Yeah that was a pretty stupid question,” Cooper admits. He takes a few steps toward Sebastian and Sebastian is immediately on guard.

“Don’t,” he growls, holding up a hand as if he could just push Cooper away despite the feet of distance still in between them. “Don’t you fucking dare come any closer.”

Cooper immediately stops. “Okay,” he says softly. “Okay…I’m staying right here.”

“I can fucking see that. I’m not blind,” Sebastian bites. He leans heavily back on the wall, trying to get himself under control. He needs to leave, he has to leave, but he’s not sure that his legs will hold him. That and now Mr. fucking Anderson is outside that door and between Sebastian and his exit.

Sebastian has no idea how long it takes, it could’ve been ten seconds or ten minutes, but finally he clenches his fists and squeezes his eyes shut. _He needs to fucking leave_ and he can’t do that if he’s being a fucking flower and having an emotional meltdown.

He takes one last deep breath before pushing himself off the wall. He slowly but smoothly (and oh, the effort it takes to stop the shaking) starts walking to the door, his ticket out of this hell-hole. He doesn’t spare Cooper a glance, but gives him as wide of berth as the room allows. But then he reaches the door and freezes with his hand on the doorknob. Is Mr. Anderson on the other side, just waiting for him to come out? Or lying in wait, somewhere in the hallway? Has he called Sebastian’s father and told him that the deal is off, only to be told he can do whatever the fuck he wants with Sebastian?

“Can I…I can give you a ride somewhere.”

Sebastian’s spine stiffens at the offer. It’s a long way to walk to Westerville – he certainly can’t call a taxi from the Anderson house and draw that type of attention. He needs to start thinking about damage control.

“I swear on my life I won’t touch you.”

Like that means anything. But it’s the best choice he has since he doesn’t know how to hotwire a car.

“Fine,” Sebastian lets out hoarsely. “You…I’ll take a ride.”

“Okay,” Cooper agrees quietly.

But Sebastian still can’t open the damn door. It’s stupid and he knows it but his muscles are pulled tight and every time he tries to turn the knob his hand doesn’t cooperate.

Cooper clears his throat. “Maybe I should lead the way. To the car, since I know where I’m going.”

Sebastian tersely nods and can’t prevent himself from quickly backing away as Cooper approaches him and the door. Cooper says nothing but simply opens the door and walks through it.

Sebastian follows at a careful distance – close but not too close. He’s a little paranoid, always looking around and behind him to make sure that Mr. Anderson isn’t sneaking up on him. He breathes a quiet sigh of relief when they finally exit the house. He snorts as they approach Cooper’s vehicle, the only one parked outside of the garage and that hadn’t been there when Sebastian arrived.

“A mini Cooper?” he sneers.

“I liked the parallel,” Cooper says brightly, his smile wide and forced.

Sebastian rolls his eyes and eases himself into the passenger side. He doesn’t need to sit in backseat because he isn’t a coward. He isn’t. However, he does jump when the doors automatically lock when Cooper puts the car in drive. Fortunately Cooper says nothing.

“Where can I take you?” Cooper asks as he steers the car down the winding driveway.

“Dalton,” Sebastian provides thoughtlessly, leaning his head against the cool glass.

He starts, his heart beating loudly when Cooper slams his fist against his own window. “Dalton Academy? Just how old are you?”

“Seventeen,” Sebastian provides quietly, the truth slipping out before he can call it back. His fingers dig into the leather seats. He debates the merits of simply getting out of the vehicle right now. They’re only going twenty miles an hour, max. It wouldn’t hurt much.

“The _fucker_ ,” Cooper swears. “He is so going to pay for this. God, you’re the same age as _Blaine_.”

“You can’t tell Blaine,” Sebastian orders immediately. “He can’t know this happened. Ever.”

Cooper doesn’t quite slam on the breaks, but Sebastian is still thrown against his seatbelt as they come to a stop. Cooper puts the car in park and turns to Sebastian.

“You’re friends with Blaine?”

Sebastian doesn’t respond and looks out the window rather than at Cooper.

“Look…I can’t let him get away with what he did. What he _almost_ did. I’m a witness, we could go the police station right now and file a report. Blaine will definitely be on your side – ”

“No!” Sebastian interrupts. “I can’t go to the police, I can’t tell anyone. _You_ can’t tell anyone, especially Blaine. Get it?”

“I can’t let Blaine stay in that house one more day, not if my…father,” Cooper spits, “is raping boys. Boys his age. _God_.”

“You can’t tell him!”

“This isn’t your fault – ”

“You don’t understand,” Sebastian cuts through, his voice low and cold. “You just need to forget this ever happened. Pretend I was never here.”

“Why? Why won’t you go to the police? He deserves to be arrested – ”

“I just can’t!” Sebastian shouts. “Now drive…please,” he whispers, wanting desperately to be back in his dorm room and on the way to getting shit-faced drunk with his secret stash of booze. It always gets depleted when he comes back from one of these nights, but now he’s definitely going to drink everything and anything he has.

Cooper hesitates for a moment but then starts driving again. He takes a right instead of a left on the highway, so Sebastian knows he’s headed on a route to Dalton rather than to the police station in Westerville.

“You should tell me what’s going on. Maybe I can help.”

Sebastian scoffs. There’s silence that lasts for minutes, letting Cooper know that Sebastian isn’t going to talk.

“Okay. Then how about you tell me how you know Blaine?”

“Dalton. Obviously,” Sebastian bites out.

“Did you two attend at the same time?”

“No.”

“How is that?”

“He transferred.” If he didn’t feel like utter shit right now, he’d actually be a little pleased at how frustrated he is making Cooper.

“So you must have transferred to Dalton just this past year, then?” Cooper begins questioning again after a quiet sigh.

“Clearly.”

“Where did you transfer from?”

“None of your business,” Sebastian mutters. He doesn’t want to think of Paris and his mother right now. It hurts too much.

That kills the conversation for another few minutes, but Cooper doesn’t turn on the radio. Then the questions start again.

“What’s your name?”

Sebastian hesitates. If Cooper doesn’t know his name, he can’t say anything to Blaine or in any way connect something back to the Smythe name. But if Cooper starts asking Blaine, describes what Sebastian looks like…

“I promise not to say anything to Blaine,” Cooper finally states quietly.

“Sebastian,” he eventually admits.

Cooper nods, then eyes Sebastian’s rumpled suit. “Were you at our house because you were meeting Blaine?”

“…No.”

Cooper sighs and runs one hand through his hair. “This would be a lot easier if you would just tell me what happened.”

Sebastian rolls his eyes. Then he feels his phone vibrate in his pocket and his stomach drops. He fishes his cell out and looks at the caller ID – Father. He declines the call and breathes in a shaky breath. The voicemail will let him know how much damage there is to control. Losing the money is unacceptable, but there are always more clients. And there’s always that old guy who would give Sebastian a bonus if he agrees to wear a collar and call him ‘Master.’ He’s avoided some of that kinky shit so far, but a couple sessions like that and he’ll make up the loss fairly quickly.

“Not a friend?” Cooper’s voice breaks in on Sebastian’s calculations.

He shouldn’t say. He shouldn’t say. He shouldn’t say. “…My father.” He clenches his jaw shut as soon as the words escape his lips.

“Does he know where you are right now?”

This time Sebastian doesn’t open his stupid fat mouth.

“…Sebastian? Do I need to take you to your house instead of Dalton?”

Sebastian shakes his head. The last thing he wants is to face his father without a plan that makes up for all the money he lost tonight. And he really has no desire to pitch that plan in person anyway.

“Okay. I get that this night has been absolutely horrible for you and I have no idea what you’re going through. But you need to tell me what’s going on so that I can help you.”

“Fuck off,” Sebastian snarls. His phone is clenched so tightly in his hand that his knuckles are white. His phone vibrates one last time, letting him know that he has a voicemail. His brain is tired, overwrought with emotion. He can’t think up a plausible cover story. He just wants this all to _go away_ already. He wants Cooper to stop asking questions, for his father to leave him alone, and for his mind to just forget that tonight ever happened.

"Look…Sebastian…”

“Would you shut up already?” Sebastian shouts, leaving even his own ears ringing.

Finally, _finally_ Cooper does. The rest of the drive to Dalton is spent in tense silence. Cooper’s blinker is especially loud whenever he makes a turn and Sebastian is almost afraid to breathe. When they pull into the Dalton parking lot, Sebastian relaxes and realizes how tense he had been.

Alcohol. That’s all he needs. Just one night drowning himself, a hangover the next morning, and he can forget about this whole disaster – except for a plan that makes up for the loss of money.

Cooper parks and instantly Sebastian has his seatbelt off and is opening the door.

“Wait!” Cooper calls. His arm reaches out as if to grab Sebastian, but he pulls back before making it all the way. “Just…wait a second.”

Sebastian doesn’t know why, but he pauses. He thinks it’s the combination of relief and shame as he watches Cooper’s hand retreat.

“I can’t just…I can’t just drop you back off at school as if I didn’t just find my father... _assaulting_ you in our guest bedroom, for whatever reason you were there. I…can I at least give you my number? In case you need someone to talk to? Please?”

He hesitates. He shouldn’t. He needs to forget that this whole thing ever happened and he can’t do that if he’s talking to Cooper. And he sure as hell isn’t going to proposition Cooper, after all, hot as he may be.

He thrusts his phone at Cooper before he can think it through.

Cooper takes it and takes a few moments to put in his contact information. When he hands it back, Sebastian snatches his phone and leaves the car without another word. He doesn’t look back as he strides towards Dalton, taking every effort to paste a smirk on his face and put an arrogant jaunt into his stride.

He is aware enough to know he didn’t hear the mini Cooper drive away, though.

Sebastian doesn’t contact Cooper. He gets drunk, gets hungover, and gets over it. He goes back to his usual routine of Warbler practices, a pile of homework, and lacrosse training. He goes to Scandals on Friday night and blows a stranger with an unsatisfactory small dick in the bathroom as usual. The only difference is that he actively tries not to think of Blaine and immediately blocks out any conversation where his name comes up.

His father is furious, but he deals with it. He pitches a plan that gets more money than he lost, on top of the clients that have already been arranged. He’s fine as he drives home the next scheduled weekend. He’s fine as he dresses in a different suit (the one from _that_ night had been trashed). He’s fine as he gets in the usual limo with the inane assistant and his usual chauffer. He’s fine as they drive to whoever is next on the list.

It doesn’t hit him until he is standing in front of some foreign house as the limo drives away that he is not fine.

He ducks around the side of the house and leans against it. His chest hurts as he breathes too deep and too fast but he knows if he stops he’ll immediately vomit. He doesn’t know what else to do. He pulls out his phone and finds the number he never managed to delete. His fingers shake and it seems to take him forever to type out the short message and hit send.

_I can’t do this_

Cooper’s response takes forever and Sebastian takes to counting his rapid heartbeats as a way to focus himself. When he gets to eighty-two, his phone vibrates.

_I’m here if you want to talk_

_I need a ride_ , Sebastian responds.

His phone vibrates with an incoming call. It’s from Cooper. It takes Sebastian several moments to answer it. The consequences of ditching another client he can’t even begin to imagine. He thinks about knocking on the door, walking into this house, and …his mind freezes.

He accepts the call but can’t say anything.    

“Sebastian? …Just tell me where.”

His location is the first of many things that Sebastian finally confesses to Cooper.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Fun fact: I started this last May. I had even posted a small little snippet on my tumblr in hopes it would spur me into finishing the story. Obviously that didn't happen, but here it finally is!


End file.
